‘I’ll try. I promise,’ he responded and licked his dry lips. ‘But you must help!’
‘What can I do?’ Lana asked, smiling naïvely, sheepishly biting her lower lip.
Hayden pulled her to him and whispered into her ear.
‘Meet me in the hotel’s bar. At half six, sharp.’
As they entered the hotel room that night, Hayden felt like laughing at the sight of the claret-coloured, lightly dotted rug. He quite liked this shade, and as they pulled the also claret-coloured, heavy curtains, he realized he actually loved the hotel room. He even loved the little armchair in front of the writing desk, for the simple reason a certain frilly-necked, red little cardigan was hanging from its back. How much he used to hate these kinds of room that, with time, had come to symbolise his solitude. But now Lana’s m
